


winter queens don’t dream of summer

by orphan_account



Series: a winter’s tale [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, another s7 set one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 13:55:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13953015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There’s a point - somewhere between the weeks of silence and the day the dragons come - where she begins to wonder if he’s never coming back.(day two: queen of winter)





	winter queens don’t dream of summer

“I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery — air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, "This is what it is to be happy.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar“

* * *

 

There’s a point - somewhere between the weeks of silence and the day the dragons come - where she begins to wonder if he’s never coming back. She learned long ago to stop putting faith in others to protect her. People who try and protect her always end up dead, and if the Dragon Queen sends her Jon’s charred bones Sansa will kill the woman herself. The North is still in good hands, it is _hers_ , just as it should have been and she won’t give up, not yet. She’s spent too long contemplating death, thinking she’d never make it home, but now she is here and the face in her mirror still fogs into oblivion. She is stronger within the walls of Winterfell, but soon enough even her mother and father’s chamber walls begin to freeze over. 

She still sleeps there, regardless. The bed feels too large, too empty, but it’s better that way. She is restless with nightmares and often wakes with the moon hovering over her, the sheets pulled into her mouth to keep herself from screaming. She begins to stay awake most nights sewing warm clothes for her people by candlelight until she collapses from exhaustion, hoping her mind is too tired to bring about nightmares. The clothes prove too useful, and she begins to sell old childhood dresses she no longer needs to buy materials. She’s not sure when the people being to call her the Winter Queen, but it sticks. 

She prays for their victory, for the death of their enemies, just as she did in King’s Landing. And then, his letter comes, finally. It’s a good letter, though his handwriting could use great improvement. She watches Arya and some other men carry a half frozen boy who ran miles to reach the gates to their healers. Arya looks at the boy in a way Sansa’s never seen her look at anyone, and prays his recovery.

He comes home, for a good while this time, the same day it finally stops snowing. She is so, stupidly, happy in a way she hasn’t let herself be since Lady died, since the last time she truly felt safe. He practically jumps out the carriage, not even trying to restrain his enthusiam, and she’s missed him so much. 

“We all missed you,” She tells him. He says nothing, just holds her the way he did when they had first reunited. “ _I_ missed you.” 

“I missed you, too.” He replies. She’s missed his voice. “More than you can imagine.” 

“Come,” She says, although can imagine quite a bit. “When you see Arya, your heart will stop, I swear it.” 

He never lets go of her hand, even as the castle doors shut tightly behind them. 


End file.
